


Too late

by Anonymous



Category: Avengers: The Initiative, Marvel (Comics), New Warriors
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Memories, Not Beta Read, POV Third Person, Regret, Wordcount: 100-500
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-09
Updated: 2009-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 04:02:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He felt like he was walking over their bones every day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too late

It was the quiet moments he hated. Coming back to his assigned quarters on base at the end of the day, turning on the lights and facing the reality that he was alone again. Alone with his thoughts and guilt.

He tossed a pile of files on the desk and pulled off the head piece of his uniform, dropping it the floor, followed by gloves and the rest of the dark blue and white spandex in a trail of discarded clothing as he headed for the shower. Standing under the stream of hot water, letting it run down his face, his back-- he closed his eyes and tried to remember the good times but they didn't come as easily anymore.

Told to report to Camp Hammond, he was to become the peer counselor for the next generation of heroes, led by the current crop. Or be depowered. It was an empty threat to a mutant but still, it revealed how serious things were for former New Warriors. Even the ones who had walked the halls of the Avengers Mansion. He'd have said yes if the base had been anywhere else.

Angel had taken the easiest route, possibly the most sensible one too. She'd never been comfortable wearing a costume and playing hero. He was, in some ways, happy for her. Happy that she was getting to live the life she wanted to, unmolested by the registration act.

He sighed and turned off the water, toweling off slowly as he made a strong coffee and sat back at the desk, switching on his computer. Another long night to weather, where he would do anything to avoid sleep and all the ghosts that visited him in his dreams, with their demands for justice.

Every step at Camp Hammond was a step taken over the bones of dead friends. Not literally, the bodies were long gone. Emotionally, spiritually, he was walking over their graves.


End file.
